


Holiday Inconveniences

by EllieMarchetti



Series: Holiday Themed Fics [1]
Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: F/M, One Night Stands, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21687670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMarchetti/pseuds/EllieMarchetti
Summary: Mare and Cal have a one night stand but the snow has other projects
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII
Series: Holiday Themed Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563376
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Snowed In

Numerous neon signs hung on the walls, illuminating the bottles of liquor behind the counter, sadly reminding her of how far away she was from home, where she would never have sat at the counter alone but at her usual table, along with her siblings and her best friend. _It's not long and you’ll be there_ , she told herself, taking a long sip from the bottle of cold beer, and it really was like that, but the thought wasn't enough to make her feel less alone. Since Ann, her roommate, had left to go home to her family three days ago, the dormitory, where she hadn’t made friends with anyone else, partly thanks to her temper, partly because she shared all the courses with Ann, so she didn’t really needed another friend, had become an unsustainable place for Mare, so here she was, in a cheap bar not too far from the campus, but not too close either, to avoid making unpleasant encounters, trying to get drunk. There were still two days to spare and then the boy her mother contacted to share the car with her would pick her up and left her directly in her house’s driveway. He was the son of an old friend, or so her mother had said, but Mare hadn’t paid too much attention to her when she called, concentrating on helping Ann to choose which clothes would be good to take with her for the first holidays together with her boyfriend, a guy who was studying in another college south, though she couldn’t remember which.

"I won't give you another one, honey, so try to enjoy it." the waiter said without even looking up, continuing to clean the counter. Mare didn’t reply, he had already risked enough to give her a few drinks even though it was evident that she wasn’t yet twenty-one, it was understandable that he didn’t want to risk it further by letting her go out completely drunk. In order to avoid any kind of discussion, or supplication, given that the place seemed a lot like the classic one where customers desperately implored the bartender to have “only one more”, the man served the only other customer at the desk that Monday night, or that Tuesday morning, based on point of views, a plump middle-aged woman with red and swollen eyes that only confirmed Mare’s theory. At the same moment the door swung open and a guy, a little older than her, probably already in his first year at university, entered and sat down two stools away, loosening his tie and undoing the first button of a perfectly pressed white Oxford shirt. Where did he think he was, in some fancy place downtown?

"You really are very young to find yourself in such a place." the stranger commented, evidently speaking to her.

“What do you mean with such a place?” the waiter asked, falsely offended, but the boy ignored him. They had to know each other well because the comment snatched a smile from the young man.

"I'm not young," Mare replied, "only minute."

"So you drink cheap beer because you miss the old days or because of lack of taste?" he asked.

Mare rolled her eyes and finally decided to look more closely at him. He was as beautiful as the California weather and couldn’t have been more different from Kilorn, her best friend, for whom she still had to decide whether or not she had a crush on. He certainly had one for her, even though he didn't really call it a crush when he declared his love before she left for college, a couple months before, but that wasn't the right time to think about it, not with that Greek god with bright bronze eyes that stood out on the tanned skin, in front her. Someone of this kind could’ve instilled in the average male a certain fear, but she didn’t have the feeling that he was dangerous, even though she was renowned for not having particular judgment when she drank and it was confirmed by the abundance of stories her siblings told each year when they all met for the holidays.

"Because I have no money to throw in alcohol." she replied coldly, glancing at the glass of an expensive-looking liquor that the bartender had served him without even needing to ask. So those two didn't just know each other but he was a regular customer.

“Do you live here?”

Mare looked at him sideways. She didn't like the question, but her interlocutor seemed to understand, so he reformulated: "Jesus Christ, girl, where are you from? Because it’s obvious that you weren’t born here."

“Chicago.”

"And what's your name?"

"I'm not interested."

"What a ugly name!" he exclaimed. "It looks like the name of someone who is running away from a man and isn’t interested in having another one."

This time Mare looked at him bluntly. He was handsome but also presumptuous, despite having seen it right, or at least in part. She was in town because she went to college there but she was in that bar because Ann wasn't there to help her tidy up her messy mind. What if she had returned home and Kilorn hadn’t waited for her as he had promised to do? After all, it had been almost four months since they last talked, and Mare hadn’t shown signs of returning his feelings. But yet... Yet she knew what Ann would’ve told her if she had been here: there was an attractive stranger to get distracted with for a night, why bother when she could postpone the analysis of the problem? Maybe the experience would help her understand. So she didn’t tell him she wasn’t interested in a one-night stand and answered his subsequent questions in a much more exhaustive way.

"Do you want to go?" he asked, and when she nodded he paid for both her last beer and his glass of liquor with a large banknote, leaving the bartender a huge tip, leading her to the conclusion he must also be rich. In any other situation, Mare would’ve hated him and anyone at home would’ve kicked her for even thinking about spending the night with him, but she wasn't at home and her siblings didn't have to know, so she let him open the door for her and take her hand on the sidewalk. He was much taller than her and being so close to him gave the feeling of being seated in the cinema’s front row, so much so that she had to lift her chin to look into his eyes and challenge him to kiss her. He immediately caught on and what began as a tender, hesitant kiss became romantic and passionate, with their lips moving in harmony. Mare felt something she had never felt before, like a jolt all over her body, and when they separated they turned the corner quickly, and then crossed the street as soon as the traffic lights turned green. They entered a large building and walked up a flight of stairs before finding themselves at the right door. Mare glanced at the label on the bell, which said T. Calore, and an instant later they were inside, thanks to the stranger who suddenly pulled her to him, squeezing her hips as he needed her. It was a wonderful feeling, something she believed to exist only in movies, but she forgot that too as his silky soft lips found her neck. With expert and decisive action he covered her with tiny kisses up to the jaw, passing then to the ear and going back down to the collarbone. He seemed to implore her to get closer and despite the same irrational impulse, the delicacy with which he acted kept triggering strange shivers that radiated from her shoulder throughout her body. The apartment was warm enough not to miss the jacket, which she freed herself of by throwing it on the ground, helped by her new lover, and they both nearly fell while he took off his black leather boots. When their lips came together again, she more than willingly let his tongue touch hers as she clasped her hands behind his neck. He took off his shirt and Mare found herself in front of a sculptural chest, the result of a perfect combination of genes and years of training. She touched his muscles and his sculpted abdomen, then put her hand on the button of his trousers and with the other touched the enormous erection. The dry sound of the zip gave her a shudder between her thighs: she craved the desire to be caressed and sank her fingers into his arms as he kissed her shoulders and breasts, pulling her jeans off. He admired her for a moment, a sexy disaster with her hair ruffled, her shirt half-unbuttoned and, incredibly, no pants. Her siblings had always praised the benefits of one-night stands and that young man, who lifted her by putting her legs around his waist like he was used to it, seemed the ideal candidate to experience them. He kissed her until he laid her gently on the sofa’s pillows: "Comfortable?" he asked, almost murmuring. When Mare nodded he gave her a kiss and took a square sachet from his wallet, which he tore with his teeth. He lowered his trousers and underwear enough to unroll the thin latex easily and quickly, only to return to devote his attention to her. He kissed her again, as if the wait had killed him, holding his breath while trying desperately to prolong the crazy, senseless, irresponsible and stupendous ride. He pressed one hand on a pillow while with the other he held her knee against her shoulder. Mare had white knuckles from how hard she was clinging to the sofa cover and every time he entered her, making her feeling that fantastic wave of pain that spread throughout her body, she tightened stronger, regardless of the fact that the fabric could break or be ruined: with all the money he seemed to have, he could easily have bought a new one. The house owner brought his mouth closer to her and Mare was instantly lost thinking how passionate and at the same time soft and extraordinary his lips were, with every touch of his tongue studied, experienced, designed to give her pleasure. As he continued relentlessly, he grabbed her thigh and with one hand opened her legs more, then with the other touched her delicate skin in the middle. Afterwards she screamed, raising her hips to meet his own, and squeezed his waist with trembling knees. He leaned down and touched her lips with his as she moaned, smiling, satisfied with the girl’s reaction. He continued to move slowly, giving her tender kisses, until he lost all control, contracting his muscles and penetrating her again with more force; now that he had made her reach orgasm, he concentrated only on himself and the thrusts became ponderous, inexorable. His moan sounded muffled against her lips, now dry from too many kisses. He lay down beside her and Mare closed her eyes for only a second, but when she opened them again it was because of the nearly white light that penetrated from the large French window.

"Good morning 'I'm not interested'" he said, making fun of her line from the night before, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

"Good morning Mr. Calore. T. What is it for? Thomas? Timothy?" she tried to guess, but he corrected her - it was Tiberias - and sat up again. Neither of them could say they slept badly, but the night on the couch hadn't been a blessing for the already aching muscles and she began to feel cold and the embarrassed. 

"Pretentious name." she commented as he pulled his pants back on, heedless of the morning erection he had to be used to. Having three siblings, it was certainly not a source of embarrassment, but she imagined that many other girls had somehow been annoyed or put in awe of the thing, so she didn't bother to tell him that as much as she cared he could even walk around naked. Another merit of growing up surrounded by male: no one expects a useless sense of decency and they are the ones who are embarrassed in front of the female bodies and not the other way around, something that had given many advantages both to her and Gisa. With this guy, however, it was different and she thanked that fortunately the shirt and cardigan she wore were long enough to cover her private parts.

"Your parents were obsessed with Latin or something? No, wait, they studied classical literature." she ventured, hoping that filling the silence with chatter was enough to dispel the tremendous feeling that tightened her stomach. She didn't really felt guilty, but she certainly didn't know how to get rid of that sexy mess.

"It’s Tiberias, with an e, not Tiberius, and it’s also my father and grandfather’s name." he explained.

"Are you noble? Wait, I know, you’re English immigrants!"

Tiberias smiled guiltily, proving her right.

"Well, _Tiberias_ , thanks for a fantastic and unexpected end of a shit Monday, but now I really have to go, I have to pack my bags as I leave tomorrow to spend the holidays with my family.”

"Don't you stop even for breakfast? A shower?" he ventured, watching her. She had to be a disaster even more than the night before, her hair uncombed, her clothes wrinkled, her makeup smudged and her face swollen so she didn’t object, and determined not to be part of that hateful group of people who got on the bus without first showering, she agreed. He showed her the bathroom, that was as beautiful as the rest of the house, white and dove gray tiled, with a huge shower and a tub for two, with a headrest on each side, matching the rest. Everything in that house seemed almost unused, as if no one lived there. She imagined that this was the case most of the time. Once left alone the smell of musk and cleanliness was no longer as enticing as it had seemed the night before and the perfectionism had lost much of its charm, but reminded herself she didn’t have to like it because, once she took advantage of the abundant breakfast he would’ve surely provided, she would go back to her messy room and leaving behind a beautiful experience.

"I'll leave you some clean clothes outside the door. That's all I can provide that can someway fit." Tiberias told her in a low voice over the wood that separated them. Mare didn't answer but smiled at the idea. The trousers, although they had spent the night on the floor, were safe, but she could hardly say the same thing about the shirt and the cardigan. Intrigued, she went to see what he had brought her, revealing an old black t-shirt with a slightly baggy collar and a simple cashmere sweater of the same color. Did he really trust her with that stuff? The sweater seemed pricy and after all, she was pretty sure she would never see him again. Maybe he thought she would give them back. Perhaps he would use them as an excuse to see her again, even if he didn't seem so banal. Anyway, she kept thinking about it under the boiling water, which filled the whole room with steam, and while drying her hair with a decidedly new and expensive-looking black hair dryer. Without her products the result was a bit frizzy, and without make-up the not-so-healthy complexion and deep shadows under her eyes were evident, but she imagined that it would play in her favor when it was time to leave, which she no longer wanted to do once she smelled hot bagels from the kitchen.

"I hope you like cheese because I have nothing else to fill them with. And no coffee or tea, only orange juice." he said apologetically, as if it wasn't the best breakfast she'd eaten in four months. They sat at the table, and despite the silence her host seemed incredibly cheerful, but Mare blamed it for the previous night.

"Where do you study? Because it’s pretty evident that you’re a student." he asked out of the blue, between bites, leaving her speechless. Were they chatter without a purpose, those? After all the silence? Or thought... She should’ve told him, she should’ve told him she wasn't sentimentally available, or then, if she didn’t , she would’ve wanted to bang her head against a wall, or Ann would kicked her ass once she found out about the thing, or maybe not, but it didn't matter. So she took a last bite of the best bagel of her life, and once she had tasted it fully, she began to explain that it wasn’t his fault, that he had been fantastic, but she couldn’t.

“At least let me take you home.” he said when she had finished, but he didn't seem disappointed or angry though he wouldn’t have the right, as he was the one who pointed out that she didn’t seem to look for a man, less than twelve hours earlier. As far as Mare wanted to accept the ride, she knew it was profoundly wrong to take advantage of him further, so she refused, claiming she could easily call a taxi, even if it was a lie: she didn't even know if he had enough money to pay for the bus ticket but after all it was a few miles, and despite the cold of mid-December she could have made it to the dorm.

"If you wait a moment I'll accompany you." he said, alluding to his breakfast. "I also have the final preparations to do before leaving for the holidays.”

"Oh, go ahead, don't worry, I know the way." she answered, with her hand already on the handle of the exit door. Going down the stairs she tried not to think, more attentive to her surroundings than to the implications, if indeed there were any other than the moral ones, which she wanted to ignore, of what she had done. The walls were of white bricks, the handrail wrought iron, without the slightest trace of dust, just like the door, that didn’t move an inch when she tried to push it. She tried to pull, although she was pretty sure that the night before he had pulled it toward him, but nothing happened. She tried to catch a glimpse of something beyond the worked glass, but everything was a large white indistinct mass. Why was everything so white? A wave of panic swept over her. It couldn't be snow. She couldn't really be trapped in a stranger's house because of snow, not the day before she left for home. Maybe, if she had found someone who could open the door for her, pushing with a little more strength... But to whom could she have asked? It wasn’t like the dormitory, there was no concierge that took care of what was wrong, nor could she ring all the bells of the building. Sure, she could’ve waited, but with that bad weather probably no one with some sense would’ve moved. But Tiberias had said he had some errands to do, so if she went up to ask him to open the door for her... she would’ve seemed stupid, of course, but better stupid than trapped, right?

"I knew you wouldn't be able to leave. Tell me, did you fall in love with the entrance or with my bagels smell?" the guy's voice said from the landing.

"I can’t open the door." she answered coldly, with the same attitude she showed the night before.

Tiberias seemed incredibly ready. Hadn't he even taken a shower?

"I know, I was coming to warn you, wherever you were. The city is blocked, or at least this part certainly is. There is no public transport, nor taxis."

"I can walk. If only you opened that stupid door, we could end it and we both could go back to our respective lives." she replied.

"Come up a moment and look out." he said, and waited for her to go up the stairs with a grim look before turning his back and entering the house, where he pulled the curtain of the large window from which the light that had awakened them penetrated, showing her the city covered not by a blanket but by what looked like a whole duvet of snow, above which other white flakes were piling up at an impressive speed.

"I can do nothing about it so I’m afraid you'll staying here for a while."


	2. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The embarrassment of being snowed in and the subsequent bonding

“Is it as strange for you as it is for me?” asked Cal, sitting sprawled on the same sofa on which they had clung together until a few hours before. Mare didn’t even turn to look at him: the snowstorm showed no sign of abiding and her chance to leave in a reasonable amount of time, that allowed her to prepare adequately for the next day’s departure, slipped away like the snowflakes that melted in contact with the glass. When the silence lasted too long for Mare to respond, Cal seemed to decide to change approach.

“Why don’t we listen to some music? Maybe it puts you more at ease.”

“I don’t need things that put me at ease!” Mare blurted out, finally paying attention to him. “I just want to go home, pack my bags and make sure I have everything I need to face tomorrow’s journey.”

Cal seemed to frown for a moment but didn’t comment, maintaining that composure that gave incredibly on her nerves.

“What if you can’t leave?” he asked, just before the silence could be even more embarrassing. “What if the storm didn’t stop and you’re stuck here?”

“Here?” she asked, looking around. Anyone in her place would’ve considered it a blessing: expensive food, a bathroom that could made those in the fancy hotels jealous, and a hot and extremely nice stranger, but Mare was different and she missed her family too much to give up even an hour of those two weeks with them.

“Am I so terrible?” he asked, as a joke, but Mare felt guilty anyway and went to sit next to him on the sofa.

“It’s not your fault, you’ve been fantastic and you’re behaving admirably, certainly better than I am, but I miss my family, I miss my father’s old vinyls and the blanket fort with my siblings.”

"We can do it. We can listen to old vinyls and build all the blanket forts you want, if it helps you in any way.”

Mare looked at him for a few moments before answering: they didn’t hide any malice, just a sincere kindness and perhaps even a touch of… apprehension? She couldn’t tell, but something in him inspired trust.

“Do you have anything from Guns N’ Roses? Because with dad we always listen to Guns N’ Roses and Motley Crue.” she finally gave in. Cal laughed, and Mare noted with great annoyance that his laughter, although a little nasal, was almost contagious. She didn’t want for the one who should’ve been just a pleasant pastime of a horrible Monday night to become something more, nor did she want to even start hoping she could attract someone that rich, but his attitude was so down to earth that she decided she can dream for a little longer.

“Not really the classic Christmas songs, apparently.” he commented, searching through a huge collection of vinyls arranged neatly under the huge flat-screen TV. Mare wondered how she hadn’t noticed them before, if not the previous night at least in the morning or during that crazy early afternoon, but she had no time to investigate any further as Cal announced he had nothing by Motley Crue.

"I have Appetite for Destruction by Guns N ‘Roses, or something by Deep Purple or Led Zeppelin.”

“How can you have nothing by Motley?” she asked, amazed. “They’re the fathers of glam metal and they sold more than a hundred million records.”

“So does Drake.” he replied. “Do you think he has any kind of talent?”

“Touché. However, nothing is classic in my family.” she let slip before she stopped abruptly. What did she have in her little, silly head? Did she want to tell him her sobbing life story? She could’ve told him about their economic problems, since she was at it. She just couldn’t understand what was wrong with her: she had chosen the most distant college that was willing to accept her mediocre grades just to get as far away as possible from a city full of people who did nothing but look at her with pity and now that she finally found herself in front of someone who seemed to treat her like a person and not like an abandoned puppy she seemed to want to go straight back in the arms of what she was running from in the beginning. Fortunately, although he seemed interested, Cal didn’t ask for further explanation and chose a Def Leppard’s record.

"Is the predilection for English bands born from an innate patriotic pride or is there a deeper story behind it?” she asked, trying to put back together her attitude.

“Only a fan of more refined techniques.” he answered vaguely, positioning himself so that he could study her expression more comfortably. The depth of his gaze made her a little uncomfortable, as if she were at an exam for which she hadn’t prepared properly, but she tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Did you have just defined Def Leppard refined?”

"I never defined them refined, don’t put in my mouth words I never said, miss _I’m not interested_.”

Mare rolled her eyes. “For the tenth time, my name is Mare and I’m sorry I treated you like that at the bar last night, okay? I had a bad, very bad, day and I just wanted to get drunk. Alone.”

“Don’t blame me for your failures: when Carmadon makes a decision there is no way to change his mind and you were way too drunk for his standards, therefore, even if it hasn’t seemed to you, take it as a victory.” he replied, confirming her suspicions from last night. “Don’t misunderstand” he continued, noticing what must’ve been a change in her expression “I don’t know the bartender’s name because I spend my evenings getting drunk but because he’s a friend of my uncle. Not that you can lecture me about what I do, or don’t, with my liver.”

An amused smirk made its way onto Mare’s face: "I had no intention, but it seems that you want to scold me for my bad habits. What else do you want to do, spank me? Should I call you _daddy_?”

His expression was so ridiculous that Mare burst out laughing, but Cal didn’t seem to have any intention of letting her get away with it and their exchange continued for a while longer, until he offered her to continue what he had interrupted the night before.

"I have no intention of getting drunk on expensive English liquor, I’m not some kind of lord.” she threatened him, but the boy, whose house really seemed to be more full of surprises than she imagined at first, took two bottles of beer out of the fridge and handed her one.

“I’m stealing it from your secret supply of American products that you only show off during your only boys night?” she asked, after she had taken a perhaps excessively long sip only to prove a point of how much she didn’t care.

"You’re really impossible, did anybody ever told you?” he mocked her, without however confirming nor denying. For a moment Mare thought of Kilorn, of how many times he had repeated that sentence, but somehow the thought came distant, muffled, like an echo of which the meaning cannot be fully understood.

“Never” she lied shamelessly.


	3. The Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mare discovers Cal's awkward identity

Cal squeezed her shoulders and very slowly leaned in for a kiss. Mare let him do it, grateful that she wasn’t the only one who felt so relentlessly attracted. Furthermore, there couldn’t have been a better ending: they had eaten, chatted, drank and danced uncoordinated to the beat of old rock songs all afternoon. If it had been a date, Mare would’ve called it perfect. Like a little girl, she melted in contact with his lips, until her breath began to accelerate and her heart beat so fast that she feared that Cal, that pressed his hips against hers, could hear it.

“Now things are complicated.” he whispered on her mouth, parting just enough to speak, then returning to suck her lower lip. Too intoxicated by the sensation, and probably also by the alcohol, Mare didn’t ask herself what that phrase meant, imputing it to the excitement of the moment, and continued to kiss him, clinging to his neck just as she had done the previous evening. They landed on the couch, she astride him. This time she undressed herself, getting rid of her sweater and shirt with deliberate slowness, without ever interrupting eye contact. It was obvious that he liked it while he watched her almost with adoration.

“I didn’t notice the tattoo last night.” he commented, glancing at the little M in italics she had on her left side, on the ribcage. It had been an error, a slightly over-insistent ex-boyfriend who had convinced her that it wouldn’t have been a bad idea if they had tattooed each other’s initial, in short, as a sign of true love and belonging, a first step before marriage. Within a short time the person she had thought she knew showed his true colors and Mare left him but never removed the tattoo, partly because no one would’ve doubted her explanation, that it was her name’s initial, the stupid and self-centered gesture of a rebellious young girl, partly as a warning not to fall again into that kind of traps. Anyway, Mare ignored the comment and took off his shirt with a fluid movement, feeling his warm body against hers. As soon as their tongues met again, she stroked his smooth skin and he too began to explore her body more calmly than the previous evening, delicate but firm, until he reached the breast, which made her throw her head back in excitement. After a couple of failed attempts to unfasten her jeans, Cal muttered something incomprehensible and stood up, clutching her legs tightly around his waist, probably headed towards the bedroom. At that point she heard, muffled but definitely recognizable, the sound of keys being inserted into the lock.

“Don’t you live alone?” she asked, partly worried, partly frustrated by the interruption.

“I’ve never said that.” he replied, standing up and quickly trying to compose himself.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Oh please tell me your girlfriend isn’t coming in…” she began, sitting up and desperately looking for something to cover her naked breast with, when she was interrupted by a decidedly familiar male voice. What was her history professor doing in that house?

* * *

Cal thought desperately of the disaster they had left in the living room. Obviously his uncle would’ve immediately understood what had happened, but he doubted that he could’ve imagined that the girl in question was still at home, half naked in his bed.

“Please tell me you’re not Professor Jacos’ son.” whispered Mare, attracting his attention.

“I’m his nephew, but please tell me you’re not still his student.”

A guilty smirk appeared on her face, and he wanted to slam his head against the nearest wall, if only it hadn’t attracted further attention.

"At least are you of age or have I just kissed a child?" he asked her, while a wave of panic hit him with the force of the storm that was raging outside. First of all, he hadn’t only kissed her and secondly what would his uncle think when he’ll see her? Because surely he would’ve seen her: there was only one exit and the only way they could’ve been saved from that hitch would’ve been if he had shut himself up in his study, which he probably wouldn’t have done before dinner, before which he would’ve surely take a shower, which meant he would enter the room they were in at the time.

"Why? How old are you?” she asked, too loud for his taste. It was already embarrassing enough, but if his uncle knew that this wasn’t his girlfriend he had never told him about but the first girl he had managed to take home from the bar, it would’ve been worse. As if Carmadon wouldn’t have told him everything once Julian had set foot in the bar. But that was a secondary problem, which they could’ve faced later; for now the key thing was to get out of there, put Mare back on track and take her home.

“You know what,” he began with his strategizing tone, which he only sported when he had a plan “ it doesn’t matter. Now we have to get out of here in a hurry but without making any noise and getting into my room, where we’ll find a way to make ourselves presentable, do you understand?”

“I won’t do the walk the shame in front of my history professor!” she exclaimed, trying not to be heard.

“Now you will come out of here, or my uncle will not only see you do the walk the shame but he will also see you half naked!” he replied, lifting her in his arms, despite the girl was trying desperately to squirm. Although she stirred like an eel and was of no help in his mission, Cal managed to open the door a couple of inches but Mare closed it with her foot.

“At least give me a shirt. I don’t want to have to change colleges because my professor saw my tits.” she implored him, and to some extent Cal could also understand, if only they hadn’t been in his uncle’s room and there were no T-shirts that didn’t belong to him. But exceptional situations calls for exceptional measures, so he extracted from one of the drawers he knew his uncle used less than an old black t-shirt, looking rather anonymous, that he had never seen on him and threw it to Mare, who caught it and wore it with impressive speed. So, after all, despite her forced nonchalance, she was also embarrassed. Or was it because she believed he was incredibly older than her? They probably only had a few years of difference, but given the conversation they had just had…

“Listen, about what we said…” he began, but she silenced him, watching intently from a tiny opening of the door. Even Cal leaned over to see and saw his uncle picking up the things left on the floor and the contents of the bowls that had spilled onto the couch. He didn’t seem particularly bothered and probably was more amused than he wanted to admit to the idea of being able to interrogate him once he disclosed himself in his presence.

“He looks like a nice guy.” Mare commented, but before Cal could answer, as soon as the man disappeared into the kitchen, the girl opened the door and slipped into the next room, in which Cal knew a bomb seemed to have just exploded: there were all sorts of clothes scattered everywhere and even a small board with an iron on it, with which he had tried to stretch the collar of the various shirts he intended to took with him on his visit to his father. Furthermore, the desk was completely covered with books, notebooks filled with notes and drawings, many of which he wasn’t very proud of.

“So you are human too.” commented Mare, looking around and once she was satisfied with the visual tour of his interests and clothes she turned to him. “So I’m going from being trapped in the house to being trapped in the room?” she asked.

“Only until he goes to shower.” he replied. “Then you’ll have ten minutes to go out.”


End file.
